Page 3 of To Save Him

“I should probably go then.”

“Oh, no.  Please don’t.  Not yet.  I’d love to hear your favorite moments with my son—over a glass of iced tea.”

He nodded after seeming to give it some thought.  “All right.”

I poured tea over one of the glasses filled with ice and then handed it to Brandon.  He took a lemon wedge off the small plate on the tray and then poured a spoonful of sugar in it, stirring it.  I poured some tea for myself and sat down.  “Thank you for indulging me.”

He smiled, taking my cue and sitting down too.  “I’m sure it must be difficult for you.”

Oh, he had no idea, but I wasn’t going to burden him with it.  As they always said,life is for the living.  Or something like that.  He also undoubtedly felt the hole Gabriel’s passing had left in his life, because my son was just one of those kinds of people.  He filled rooms with warmth, love, and laughter, and those same rooms felt very empty after he left them.  I nodded but kept my mouth shut.  Brandon said, “So you wanted to hear a story about Gabe and me?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.”  His voice was soft as he seemed to ponder my words.  “There’s one story I can think of.”  He took a drink of his tea before continuing.  “So…you might not know it, but there’s a lot of hazing that goes on in the military—especially with new recruits.  People don’t talk about it and it’s not supposed to happen, but it does.  It happens with the new guys, and it’s all part of the experience.  The idea is to either toughen a guy up or push him out—because, either way, he doesn’t belong the way he is.  A huge part of military is belonging and oneness and becoming a team.  It’s drilled in early on, so much that you don’t question it.

“Anyway, that means that when established guys start picking on a newer guy, for whatever reason, you tend to turn a blind eye.  It’s not that you outright condone it.  But by allowing it to happen, you are.  And this poor kid—for days, he was picked on, and it was relentless.  I don’t get why, ‘cause he’d made it through boot camp.  That alone proves something.  But they made fun of everything about him—the pitch of his voice and the twang in it, his name, his height.  I think his constant torment was putting us all on edge.  Well, we were all returning from mess one night, and the three main guys who’d been egging each other on decided they were gonna give Edgar a swirlie.  You could see it on the kid’s face that night, that they’d just about broke him.  But Gabe—he stood up from his bunk, walking over to Edgar’s before the three troublemakers got there, and he said, ‘I don’t think so.’  That made them angry, of course, because Gabe was ruining their evening’s entertainment.  Never mind that they could have gone to the movie showing on post.  They wanted to make this guy’s life miserable.  The leader of the bullies said something like, ‘Oh, yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?’  Gabe was cool as a cucumber.  ‘You wanna find out?’  I scrambled down off my bunk then so I could get his back.”

“That was very kind of you,” I said.

“No, not really.  I’d been one of the ones content to let the kid get bullied and turn a blind eye.  Your son, he was a leader.  I tell you what, Mrs.—sorry—Kimberly, that wasn’t the only time he inspired me to act.  He was that kind of guy.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again.  Yes, I’d always known my son was a leader as well as caring and compassionate.  He’d always been that way.  That was why he’d been the perfect big brother.  “Thank you for sharing that with me, Brandon.  It’s good to know that he made others’ lives better while he was still here.”

The young man across from me on the sofa nodded.  “That he did.”  He took another drink of tea and then said, “I should probably go now.  I just wanted to let you know how much you meant to your son.”

I wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.  Brandon was like the only connection I had to my deceased firstborn.  Yes, it was irrational, but that was how my mind saw it.  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?  I know Gabriel’s sister and brother would love to meet you.”

“I’d hate to impose.”

“It’s not an imposition.  I promise.  IknowAnnabel and JR would love to visit with you.”

He seemed to grapple with it before saying, “Okay.  Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re more than welcome.  I just need to decide what to make for dinner.  Do you have any food allergies or preferences?”  I almost enjoyed the idea of making a special dinner—I hadn’t liked cooking in a long time, partly because it felt like no one appreciated it.

“No, m—”  He caught himself before once more using the overpolite address I disliked.  “Kimberly.  Sorry, that’s hard after being drilled in the services for so long.  Anyway, I’m just grateful for a hot meal.  They say not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

My mind was already probing the contents of my refrigerator, freezer, and pantry, trying to think of something I could make that Gabriel would have wanted to come home to.  My boy always liked steak and potatoes like his father, but he also had favorite “mom recipes,” like chicken and dumplings and chili con carne, both throwbacks from my southern mother.  Thanks to her, most of the meals I prepared had some sort of southern flair, not because I’d been raised there, but because my mother had, and she’d cooked like she still lived a couple hundred miles north of the border.  But I also had my own specialties that I’d learned since being on my own and raising a family.  I thought of another favorite of all my children, something I thought I had all the ingredients on hand for.  “Do you like spaghetti?”

“Yes.  As I said, I’ll gladly eat whatever you feed me.  Marine food isn’t known for being palatable.”

Another memory pained me at that thought.  A few months before Gabriel had passed, he’d told me he couldn’t wait for his furlough because he wanted to taste home cooking again.  I could feel my throat constrict with emotion again, but that was when I heard JR crashing through the front door.

“Hey, mom!  Guess who made the baseball team?”  JR bounded through the door and then paused upon seeing Brandon.  “Oh, hey.”  Who knew where Annabel was?

“JR, this is Brandon, a Marine friend of Gabriel’s who’s stopped by to pay us a visit.”

“Gabe?”  My youngest seemed confused at first but he was my hyperactive social butterfly and quickly rebounded.  “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.”  So polite.  Brandon was like Gabriel in that respect.

“So you made the baseball team, son?”

“Yeah.  They posted the results of yesterday’s tryouts during lunch today.  And, if I read it right, I was their first pick.”

“They were wise to choose you.”  I wanted to hug JR, but I knew he’d have none of it, especially in front of a stranger.  “I’m so proud of you, son.”

Finally, Annabel walked through the door, but she was on her cell phone.  She waved, acknowledging our existence, but she charged up the stairs toward her bedroom without so much as ahello.  “Teenagers,” I offered as an apology.  “I’m sure you figured out that was my daughter.”

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